


borrowed peace

by aquamarine_nebula



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jon tenderly bandages Martin's wounds because why not, M/M, Slaughter realm, Spoilers for S5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26445967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquamarine_nebula/pseuds/aquamarine_nebula
Summary: Hiding in a shelter as bombs fall, shots are fired, and people scream shouldn't be a haven.Then again, being with Martin is its own type of haven.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 81





	borrowed peace

“Is she okay?” Martin asked when Jon was halfway through patching up the bullet wound in his shoulder.

Jon tutted and tugged at his uninjured arm to encourage him to keep still. “Stop turning to look at the door! Basira’s  _ fine _ , I’m keeping an eye on her as well.” It came out snappier than he intended, and when Martin turned concerned eyes on him he shook his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“Are  _ you  _ okay?”

Jon could have laughed at the question. Truthfully, the answer could only ever be ‘ _ no _ ’ until he finally died and left this unbearable world behind. He’d just watched the man he loved get  _ shot _ whilst running through a battlefield, heard him cry out in unmistakable agony. If the bullet had been a few inches lower and to the left, it would have pierced his heart, and Jon would probably have--

He hid his face in his hands, shaking at the force of the sob that wracked through his throat, and it only took a second of Martin flailing in shock before he pulled Jon onto his lap, squeezing him tight to his chest with his good arm. “Okay, not okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you, Jon.”

Jon was still shaking as Martin stroked his back and spoke calming nonsense into his hair. It almost made Jon angry, how  _ little _ Martin blamed him for all of this. He’d just almost been shot down in a  _ war zone _ , in an eternal war that  _ Jon _ had caused, and he still loved Jon, still held him with the same affection as back in Scotland, watching the sky as the sun set from their tiny bed.

He missed that bed so much. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, as if that would do  _ anything _ .

“I forgive you,” Martin said, bemused. “You’re not the one who shot me, love.”

Jon pushed his face into Martin’s chest. Soft, warm, everything he associated with their short time in Scotland. “It was still my fault,” he mumbled. Martin poked his shoulder.

“I can’t hear you when you’re in there.”

Jon reluctantly pulled away, let Martin brush at his cheeks with a thumb. “It was still my fault.”

“Did you pull the trigger?”

“Might as well--

“ _ Jon _ .”

“Fine. I didn’t pull the trigger. But I caused all of it! And I...are you really trying to tell me that you don’t blame me? Even a little?”

He was about to immediately insist no, but a look in Jon’s eyes stopped him, and he breathed out harshly through his nose.

“I… did. A bit, but--”

Jon’s stomach dropped to his feet, and he tightened his fists in Martin’s jacket where it was lying pooled around Martin’s hips. Before they’d left the safehouse, it had been almost pristine. Martin always took good care of his clothes, was a deft hand with thread and needle, darning anything that ripped. But now it had scorch marks, a tear in the back, the colour had faded from the edge of the sleeves where he played with them nervously.

“Jon, don’t  _ look _ at me like that. A part of me did,  _ maybe _ , but it wasn’t your fault!”

“If I’d stopped reading--”

“Could you have?”

The information came swiftly. He could. If he’d taken a sharp object and gouged out his eyes, at least. “If I weren’t a coward--”

“Oh, for…” Martin took a deep breath. “Do you blame me?”

“For what?” 

“I left. If I’d stayed, I would have heard--I could have stopped you.”

It would have been like getting between a wild animal and their prey. Jon shook his head slowly. “I...it would have been very bad for you.”

Martin laughed, wincing when pain stabbed through his shoulder. “We both know I can hold you down easy.” He took hold of Jon’s wrists in one hand, spindly and thin compared to Martin’s.

Jon choked, his face heating. “Well.  _ Yes _ . But…” He trailed off. There wasn’t really anything else to say, and frankly the last observation had knocked his thoughts out of order.

“I don’t blame you,” Martin insisted. “Certainly not  _ now _ .”

He ducked in to kiss Jon. His lips were a lot more chapped than before their journey started, but he kissed with so much more strength now than he did before. More than a little desperation, as if any kiss would be their last.

Jon shivered and pressed closer. It  _ could _ be, that was the trouble. He didn’t know if Martin dying would be an  _ actual  _ death here, but they could still be separated. Martin could still decide to leave and melt into the lonely again. Jon could lose the final grasping holds he had to his humanity.

He shivered again when Martin slid a hand under his shirt, tracing along his ribs gently, keened into Martin’s mouth when he gripped his hips tighter, Jon’s hands leaving Martin’s hair to trace his bare chest.

At which point Basira had finished her investigation of this Slaughter realm, having found another of Daisy’s victims and dragged them away from the carnage. Jon hurriedly pulled away, sliding off Martin’s lap. “Basira,” he said at Martin’s confused look.

She burst through the door. “How did Jon do?” was the first thing she asked.

Jon carefully looked anywhere but at Martin.

“What?” Martin asked. “Oh, you mean the bullet?”

Which was probably more logical. Jon coughed. “Could you check it too, Basira?” he asked. 

She complied, getting on her knees to poke at it gently. She hummed, which Jon took to mean a good job. “Could be neater. But not bad.”

“I did a lot of embroidery when I was a child,” Jon quipped, and Basira snorted. 

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Oh, wait.” Martin grabbed Jon’s arm as he made to get up. “Could we have a moment, Basira? Do you mind waiting outside?”

Basira glowered. “Fine, but if--”

“We won’t miss Daisy. She’s not far and…” he focussed on her prowling, circling another prey. Another innocent that he had condemned. “She’s not on the move. We’ll see her...soon.” He swallowed against the rising panic. Basira, soldier-like, nodded and strode out of the door.

Jon waited until the door was shut before turning to Martin. “Here? Really?” Not that he was  _ complaining _ , per se. It had been too long, a whole other lifetime, since he’d touched Martin.

“Wh-? No, Jon,” he said, exasperated. “There are people screaming just outside, why would I want to have sex in the middle of that?”

“That’s why I was confused.”

Martin paused. “Okay, I got a bit carried away, but that’s not why I asked Basira to leave.” He shrugged his shirt back on, but left it unbuttoned as he pulled his bag closer and started rifling through it. “It’s...well, I bought it a couple of days before…” he pointed at the roof, beyond which, in the sky the giant, unblinking eye trained itself on the horror beneath it. “It was too soon at the time, I just saw it and thought of you, and so I bought it. It was in that antique shop next to the fountain, remember?”

Jon nodded.

“But it’s been a while now--”

“Ten months, a week and three days,” Jon interjected.

“Oh, we’ll have to do something nice for our anniversary.” Jon glared at Martin as he laughed. “I’m  _ kidding _ , Jon--”

“Pick your horror for date night, I guess,” he said. “Do spiders seem romantic enough to you?”

“ _ But _ , it’s been a while now, and I’m still in love with you through all of this, which is  _ something _ .”

“Something,” Jon echoed, pulling his knees to his chest and propping his chin on them.

He finally found what he was looking for, and hid it in his hand. Jon’s heart could have stopped in that moment. He stared at Martin’s hand.

“I know it’s a bit of a worthless symbol, especially now, but…” He opened his hand, opened the velvet box in his palm. 

The golden ring had a hatched design on it, but other than that it was plain, a bit more slender than most men’s rings.

“I was planning on spending my life with you, if you’d have me, regardless. So it was just…” he trailed off, and held out his hand.

Jon’s palm was starting to sweat, and he could feel his pulse in his throat, but he still placed his left hand in Martin’s, for once in this conversation perfectly still as Martin slid the ring on his finger. It was a little tight, but that was perfect. He would always feel it on his finger.

“I do,” he blurted out, and Martin looked at him in shock before laughing.

“You’re such a romantic. Fine, I do.”

And Jon  _ was _ the most powerful non-entity being in existence. It was as binding as any marriage before. He kissed Martin again, until Martin’s hands soothed Jon’s pulse to something more comforting, before leaving this tiny, horrific haven to continue the hunt.


End file.
